


The Beast and The King

by blackfin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Isekai, M/M, Magical Adventure, Mystery, Slow Burn, Transferred to Another World, another world - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-12 12:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16873098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackfin/pseuds/blackfin
Summary: A grandfather he never knew, who spent his last days raving about the Fae and magic.A door that, supposedly, can't be opened, even under the most intense brute force.A monster who appears from a veil of darkness, whispering his name.Keith expected some kind of strangeness when he inherits a house from a grandfather he never knew he had but what awaits him is a journey to find a missing King, who's thought to be the only one who can stop a looming calamity, and to save a monster with a familiar scar from completely losing his heart.





	1. The House on the Hill

**Author's Note:**

> this story has been on my mind for ages and I finally have gotten the time to sit down and write it  
> combines all my favorite genres: fantasy, magic, other worlds, beasts and a disaster just on the horizon!  
> Posted also on my tumblr (blackfen) and my twitter (tenebrisfen)  
> thank ya!

Shivering in the cold, early morning air, Keith stared blankly up at the old house sat on top of the steep hill that he had somehow managed to get his old, beat up, right on the verge of dying car up. Arms crossed firmly over his chest, the frigid breeze blowing through biting his skin through his thin hoodie, Keith let his gaze roam over the house, taking in the weathered wood, battered shutters, cracked pathway leading up to the large, wrap around porch. Well…in all honesty, he was shocked that there was even a house here. On the drive up, following behind the woman who introduced herself as the landlady, he’d been fully expecting to be led out into the middle of nowhere, drugged and dragged off to perform hard labor in some country no one’s ever heard of. 

Jerking her bright pink parka more tightly around her, the landlady stomped down the stairs, her wrinkled face either screwed up in disgust at the cold or the fact that Keith was just kind of standing there, staring dumbly at the house. 

“Well?” She rasped in a voice that clearly indicated she probably smoked a pack of cigarettes for breakfast, lunch and dinner instead of eating food, “What do you think?”

“There’s a house.” Keith said honestly, dropping his gaze to look at her. The corners of his lips curled up into a rueful smile, “Wasn’t expecting that.” 

To his surprise, the landlady snorted, a glint of amusement gleaming in her beady eyes, “Ah well, I can understand that. I’ll be honest, surprised you even showed. It was me who sent you the message. Felt like a damn idiot writing it, thinking to myself ‘who is going to believe this?’ but looks like you were either stupid or desperate enough to take the risk.” 

Honestly, probably a lot of both, with a heavy leaning towards desperate. Considering he’d been homeless for two months now, living out of the back of his tiny car, just trying to survive from one puny paycheck to the next…yeah, desperate seemed about right. Desperate enough to take the stupidly dangerous risk that’d been presented to him a week ago. Truth be told, he still wasn’t sure how the landlady (Martha? He felt like her name was Martha, she looked like a Martha – she introduced herself at some point but he’d been too nauseous with anxiety to remember it) had gotten the two paragraph long letter she’d sent to inform him of his “inheritance”. 

Speaking of which, Keith thought now was a good as time as ever, “Gotta ask, though. How did you know where to address the envelope to?”

Again, the landlady snorted, waving one thin, veiny hand, “I’ll tell you that inside. Get your scrawny butt moving.” 

With that, she turned on her heel, got back up the stairs and went back inside. Keith lingered for a while longer, still just kind of reeling from the fact that he had a house, he actually had a house, this was now his house, the house was his. As he found more and more ways to say that there was currently a house in his possession, Keith followed after the landlady, taking his first step inside his newly acquired abode. To his shock, the inside was shockingly clean. Though, considering the fact that the moment he stepped in, he was slapped across the face by the heavy scent of lemony cleaning shit, it was pretty obviously that the place had been cleaned recently. Very recently, like probably last night after he’d called the number included in the letter he got to let the sender know he would be coming kind of recent. 

Slowly walking in further, the clump of his shoes against the old wood floors echoing throughout the otherwise quiet house, he investigated the rooms he passed through the doorway. Another surprise: the house came with furniture, and not shitty furniture either. In what he assumed was the living room were two decent sized couches and a coffee table. There was a dining room with a small table with a couple of chairs scooched up close to it. Further down, past the stairs that led up to the dark second floor was the kitchen, where the landlady was making a pot of coffee. Keith’s jaw dropped a little as he wordlessly looked around. Fridge…oven…microwave…coffee maker…toaster…even a fucking, goddamn blender…he had a blender. He actually had a blender. 

“Sorry the appliances are a little beat up.” The landlady spoke up, most likely noticing his silence, which she might’ve interpreted as disappointment. 

“Didn’t even notice.” Keith said quietly, walking over to the fridge and lightly wrapping his fingers around the handle. When he tugged open the door, just to get a feel for how big it was on the inside, another surprise was waiting for him. There was food in there! Eggs, milk, butter, some lunchmeat, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, hotdogs, pre-cooked bacon, condiments! There was even a cake! There was a fucking chocolate cake smothered in icing right in front of him! He could smell the sugar wafting up from the decadent gloss of chocolate! His stomach growled loudly, viciously reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. A sudden intense urge to grab a handful of that delicious looking cake and shovel it into his mouth. Somehow, he managed to resist but had to close the fridge door to do so. 

“There’s more in the cupboards.” The landlady spoke up from behind him, “Your grandfather left some money with me with the request that there’d be some food waiting here for you when you showed.” She paused for a moment then added gently, “Think he knew that you were in a bad way.”

“You mind if I fix something?” He asked, ignoring her last statement. Not out of embarrassment but because it was majorly creepy that someone he had never spoken to, met, seen or even knew existed might’ve known of his shitty as fuck situation. 

“Go for it. You want some coffee?”

“Yes, please. And,” he tugged open the fridge door once more, grabbing everything to make a quick sandwich, “thank you. I appreciate you going through the trouble.” 

She waved a hand dismissively but looked pleased, “Don’t mention it. Your grandfather was a good friend of mine. Least I can do for his grandson.” 

Dropping everything down onto the counter, Keith quickly located the bread and set about making himself a sandwich, “How did you know where to address the envelope?”

“I didn’t.” She replied with a shrug, pouring both her and Keith a mug of coffee, “God, can’t even imagine how much that must’ve freaked you out. Old fashioned letter coming out of nowhere, delivered to your car in a parking lot.” Shaking her head in bemusement, she passed him one of the mugs, which was blissfully warm in his hand, “Back to the point, though. I didn’t, your grandfather did. Now, I don’t mean to be creepy or anything but he left me instructions. Part of it was how to get the letter to you. That was how I knew where to send it.” 

“It wasn’t a post office worker who delivered it.” Keith said, feeling very creeped out despite her not meaning to do so. How could he not be freaked out about this entire thing? A parking lot, he had been in a freaking parking lot. Not only that, but he had been in a parking lot on the outskirts of town and it was for a building that no one used anymore. It was a freaking abandoned dollar store parking lot that he was camping out in, and some dude he had never seen before in his life pulled up right beside him, got out, knocked on his driver’s side window, handed him the letter then just…drove off. No words exchanged. Handed him the letter, then off he went, just like that. 

“No, didn’t think it would be. Your grandfather’s instructions said to send it to someone he referred to only as a ‘friend’ since he was pretty damn sure the post office wouldn’t deliver a letter to some random car in some random parking lot.”

“How did he know?”

Letting out a low, raspy bark of laughter, the landlady shook her head, “I don’t know. I really don’t know. Honestly,” she waved her hand vaguely, “all of this? Bizarre. Completely bizarre. I don’t know how he knew any of this, and obviously couldn’t ask him. Be honest with you, though – even if he was still alive, I wouldn’t ask him. I wouldn’t want to know how he knew.” 

“Why’s that?” 

She slurped on her coffee, sighed a little then offered a small smile, “Because he was a fucking freak, that’s why.”

Keith blinked. Well…well, then, that was not the answer he was expecting but honestly? After getting over the initial shock of her just saying that point blank to his face…yeah, that seemed to fit right into the whole thing that was going on here. Taking a big chomp out of his sandwich, ascending straight up into heaven for a few moments as the wonderful saltiness of the mustard, the savoryness of the ham, the crisp crunch of the lettuce spread across his tongue, Keith chewed slowly, savoring everything. 

“Mind if I ask you something?” She asked, watching him with an amused expression. 

“Sure.” He replied, wiping a glob of mustard from the side of his mouth. 

“Are you really his grandson?”

“No idea.” Keith said easily, setting the sandwich done and brushing the crumbs from his hand. Knew this question was going to be coming at some point so might as well get it all out in the open now before people got the wrong idea, “Honestly, I don’t know. I imagine I have to have some grandparents but I never knew them.”

The landlady hesitated for a moment for cautiously venturing, “Your parents-“

“Gone.” Keith firmly interrupted her, “So no.”

“Well,” she said after an awkward pause, “not like it’s any of my business.”

“Did he ever mention having kids? Grandkids?”

“No. Never saw or heard him mention a wife or girlfriend either. Granted, though, he only lived here for around ten years. Considering that he was in his 70s, ain’t too strange to think that he might’ve had a family or, at least, a kid at some point. Before he-“ she paused, her words catching, then gave her head a shake, “Know what? That’s a story for another day. Point is, he never mentioned it but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.” 

Nodding in agreement, wondering what she was going to say before she cut herself off, Keith considered bringing it up then decided against it. Apparently, that was a story for another day so he’d wait for another day to come around before asking – that is, if it wasn’t brought up before then. He had a feeling that it probably would be. Something weird surrounded the man who was, supposedly, his grandfather – a particular kind of weirdness that people were always eager to talk about so, yeah, definitely got the feeling that he was going to know sooner, rather than later what all happened with him. Gobbling up the rest of his sandwich, he put everything away then headed back out towards the living room. 

“You got any questions?” The landlady asked, following after him. 

“No, I-“ Keith stopped, blinking in confusion. He was in the foyer, right next to the living room, right where he had been earlier but hadn’t noticed something that he probably should have noticed from the getgo. There were small hallways on either side of the stairs, one led to the kitchen, the other ended in what, at first glance, seemed to be just a wall but upon closer inspection, Keith realized that it wasn’t just a wall, there was a door. That in of itself wasn’t that startling since well, it was just a door but, at the same time…it didn’t seem to be just a door. Something about it was weird. Something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

“Ah, there we go. Was waiting for you to notice that.” The landlady laughed, “Surprised you didn’t the moment you walked in.” 

He glanced over at her, a little unnerved by her huge grin then walked down the hallway, reaching out to settle the tip of his fingers against the smooth, painted wood. Yup…felt like how he expected it too. That was…wood, right there but…maybe he was just imagining it, the weirdness of the moment and all that but he could swear that there was something weird going on underneath his fingers. Not a vibration, not a movement he could physically feel. Something else, something that thrummed like a heartbeat through his fingers. Frowning, he grabbed hold of the cold, metal doorknob and gave it a tug. Nothing happened. He tugged hard. Still nothing, the door didn’t budge an inch. 

“Don’t bother. It doesn’t open.” 

Releasing the doorknob, he backed up silently, staring at the…weird, the weird fucking door for a moment then turned back to her, “What the fuck is it?”

Letting out a bark of laughter, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her parka, “See, I think I’m gonna like you. You get right to the point. Simply put? I don’t know what the fuck it is. That door has been there for as long as the house has been here – that being a good hundred years or so. No one knows why it’s there. Like I said, it doesn’t open. Don’t know if you noticed but there’s no keyhole so no key to open it.”

“Why not get a crowbar and-“

“We have.” She cut him off with a snort, “And we aren’t the first either. Family I bought the house from twenty years ago told me they tried to force it, to no luck. Wouldn’t budge. Decided when I was doing some renovations that I’d give it a go. Well, not me. I got some of the guys working with me to take a crack at it. These weren’t puny guys, either.”

“No luck?” Keith asked, eyeing the door suspiciously. 

“No luck. They could get the crowbar underneath it but after that? They might as well have been trying to uproot a mountain. Damn thing didn’t even creak or groan under the pressure.” 

“Is it affixed to the wall?”

“If it is then there must be some fucking strong ass nails or glue holding it there.” She shook her head, then flashed a strangely mischievous smile, “Or the Fae might be holding it closed with her magic.”

Chuckling merrily to herself as though she had just made the funniest joke in the world, the landlady started heading towards the front door, leaving Keith standing there with a bamboozled expression on his face. Magic? Fae? Like…faeries? Elves? What constituted as fae? More to the point, where the frick had that come from? Maybe it had to do with a local legend or something. Or she might just be fucking with him…in fact, he was pretty damn sure that was what she was doing. Seemed like the kind of lady who’d spin that yarn for the new folks to get them to do something stupid. 

Glancing at the door one last time, he brushed a hand through his hair then turned away, following after the landlady. She was standing on the porch, slowly tapping away on her phone. When he stepped out to join her, she said, “By the way, your grandfather left this for you.” 

Reaching into one of what seemed to be many pockets, she pulled out a thick envelope, and handed it over to him with a sly smile, “Don’t spend it all in one night. That’s meant to hold you over till you can find a job.” 

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Keith replied, shoving the envelope into the pocket of his hoodie without even glancing at it. “Thank you for everything. I appreciate it.” 

“Sure thing, hon. I left my phone number and keys to the house on the kitchen table. If you have any problems, feel free to give me a ring. Piece of advice?”

“Yes ma’am?” 

“We might be a small town but we ain’t busybodies. You wanna be left alone, you’ll be left alone but if you want that, then don’t shop in town. Go to Ford, town about fifteen minutes from here.”

Keith remained silent for a moment then sighed, “I’m not too concerned about being left alone. Besides, I need to get a job and I’d rather it be close by since I don’t know how much longer my car will last so hiding away won’t help me much. Also,” he glanced at her out of the side of his eye, “if I go into town, can I learn more of just what the fuck is going on here?” 

“Kiddo, you go into town and you’re gonna learn more than you ever wanted to know.” 

“Better than knowing nothing.” He responded with a shrug. 

“Hah, you got a point. Don’t know if you’ll feel the same after learning ‘bout all the weirdness that surrounds this house, and your grandfather but it’s a point. You good from here?”

“Yes ma’am, thank you.” 

“Alright, I’m heading out. Nice to meet ya, Keith. Take a couple of days, get adjusted, sleep in, eat till you nearly puke then come see me. I’ll make sure you have a job by the end of the week.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.” 

“And drop the ma’am bullshit.” She shot him a hard smile, “Just Madeline is fine. I’ll see ya.” 

With that, she walked back, briskly striding over to her car. Keith stayed where he was until she had driven off, leaving behind only a white puff of exhaust then went on down to his car, popped open the trunk and pulled out the three medium sized boxes that held every single thing he owned. So, not a Martha. Had an M-name so he got kind of close but definitely not a Martha. He would’ve never guessed Madeline so he was glad that she reminded him of her name without him having to ask. He got the feeling that she might’ve been annoyed that he forgot. 

Stacking each of the boxes on top of the other, he carried the three inside then dropped them in the foyer. One was just clothes, so it’d go upstairs where he assumed the bedroom was. The other two were miscellaneous, and he had no intention of unpacking either of them. When all this inevitably ended up going sour – maybe the real grandson showed up, maybe the landlady decided to sell the house, maybe he was run out of town for being the grandson of a ‘freak’, there were so many things that could go wrong – he didn’t want to have to go through the process of packing up everything he owned again. First time was already bad enough. His clothes…he’d wash them, that was for certain then he might fold everything back up and leave them in the box till he wore them. 

Figuring that was something he could decide later, Keith grabbed the clothes box, shoved the other two boxes to the side with his foot then headed up. There were three rooms upstairs – two bedrooms and a full bath. Obviously, he took the larger of the two rooms – one, because it was bigger; two, because it had the comfier looking bed, three, because there was actually a tv in there (a small, older one that probably got shit reception but still a motherfucking television) and four, it was closer to the bathroom. Dropping the box down onto the floor, he flopped himself down onto the bed, pressing his cheek against the soft comforter. There he lay for several moments, not really looking at anything, not really thinking much of anything, just kind of existing for a little. 

This…all of this…he was still a little bit convinced that none of it was really happening. It was all just some highly detailed fever dream. Like, come on…a grandfather he didn’t even know existed up and dies, leaves him a fully furnished house and money to pay for groceries till he can find a job…how could he even start to believe that any of this was legit? Okay, so it probably wasn’t a dream – there was only so far that kind of explanation can be stretched – but what exactly was all this then? A massive scam? A hoax? Was he being lured out into the middle of nowhere so some satanic cult could harvest his organs in the dead of night? Alright, that was pushing it a little but the point fucking remained: what the fuck was all this? 

Slowly rolling over onto his back, Keith pulled out the letter he’d gotten a few days ago – the one that had been delivered straight to his car in the middle of an abandoned parking lot by some anonymous dude. It was one he had read over probably a million times by now, and read again while he was lying there. The message was insultingly clinical and brief:

Hello, Keith. 

I am James Kogane, your Grandfather. If you’re receiving this letter, then I’ve passed on. To you, I leave all my worldly possession, including my house. Below is the address, and the phone number of Ms. Dorsett, the landlady. She has been informed of the situation and will be waiting your call. May the fireflies guide you. 

Sincerely,   
Your Grandfather, James Kogane. 

And that was pretty much it in a way of explanation. Under the brief note, just as written, was a hastily written address and phone number. After he got the letter, he had stared down at it for probably around an hour before crumpling it up, tossing it in the backseat and going about his way. What an absolute load of crock, he had thought furiously to himself. He half wanted to call up the lady listed and scream her ear off for trying to scam people like that. Sure, he was smart enough to recognize shit when he smelled it but if they were going after homeless people, then there were definitely some out there who were desperate enough to actually believe that whole shlock was real. 

There, the wad of paper had remained for about a week, untouched, unmoved, mostly forgotten about…that is, until he lost his part time job as a stocker at the local supermarket. On the same day, his car’s back tire blew in the middle of the city, meaning he not only needed a tow but had to replace the tire as well. Suddenly, he found himself without any income, spending near every cent he had to get his car operational again and ended the day with three dollars and seventy-five cents to his name. 

Lowest fucking night of his life. So low that he laid down on the cold, hard asphalt and seriously considered just never getting back up. So low that when he did inevitably get up (mostly because it had begun to rain) and got into his car, catching sight of the wadded up piece of paper out of the corner of his eye, he snagged it, smoothed it out and called the number at the bottom of the page, internally screeching at himself that he was being stupid, that there was no way this was a good or real thing. Ms. Dorsett picked up, told him how to get where he needed to go, arranged a meet up time and that was that. 

And here he was. Actually in a fucking house. Lying on a real fucking bed for the first time in two years. There was food downstairs, money in his pocket, a roof over his head…and he…he felt like straight bolting back to his car, driving back to that abandoned parking lot and just straight forgetting all of this. Leave the money, leave the keys, close the door up tight then run or drive, in this instance. Drive until he was back in that familiar setting where it could get worse, it could easily get worse but fuck, least he wouldn’t be in a situation where he could get comfortable, peaceful, even. Least he’d already be at the goddamn bottom so he wouldn’t have that much further to fall. 

Here…he was in a house. It was, supposedly, his house. There was food, there was a bathroom, there was a fucking goddamn television! 

If he got comfortable here…when he fell…because he always did, he didn’t know if he could get up from that. He didn’t know if he could go through a fall like that again. 

Sighing heavily, Keith scrubbed at his face. He…he would figure out what to do later. As of right now, he was not going to continue lying here, repeating endlessly that this was a stupid fucking idea and he should bolt while he still had the chance. Instead, he was going to get something else to eat – that sandwich hadn’t been anywhere near enough – then he was going to take a shower. After that? He’d figure that out when he got there. Point was, he needed to get there first. With that decided, Keith got up off the bed, dropped the letter and the envelope full of money onto the cover, and marched his butt downstairs to make probably like five more sandwiches…as well as to fully investigate the cupboards and pantry to see what all was waiting for him. 

-

Keith awoke with an unpleasant jolt, blinking blearily in the dim light. For a moment, he forgot where he was. When the first thing he saw wasn’t the familiar ceiling of his old car but instead the dark window looking to the outside, he went tumbling off the bed with a loud, sharp gasp, frantically grabbing for the pocket knife he kept underneath the passenger side seat. It was on his way down to the wooden floor that he saw the light coming down the hallway, peeking in through the cracked door to the bedroom he picked, and reality came crashing in as his butt slammed hard against the cold floor. Grimacing in pain, reaching down to rub his aching behind, Keith groaned, blinked hard a couple times to clear the sleep from his eyes then looked around. 

Nothing seemed to be amiss. Other than the thundering of his heart in his ears, he couldn’t pick up on any other sounds. The old digital clock sitting on top of the bedside table and looked like was manufactured back in the 80s read 12:03. Pushing himself up off the floor, brushing nonexistent dust off his ass, Keith crept over to the door to take a quick peek out. From the little bit he could see, there was nothing going on out there. Truth be told, he was halfway convinced that nothing specific had woken up him – he just woke up as he often did, panicked because he was in a new place and was now overreacting because waking up like that in the middle of the night while you’re camping in a parking lot never translated to okay or good things. Still, despite knowing that, there was something else he knew: if he didn’t check the entire house from top to bottom, including the surrounding area outside, he was never going to get back to sleep. 

It was only midnight. Earlier, after pretty much wandering through the house for an hour, idly munching on the stack of sandwiches he made, he made up his mind: at ten am the next day, he was going to sit down at that small kitchen table, logically think about all of this and decide what would be done. That date he had made with himself was over 10 hours away. When he got to that time, he wanted to be full rested, which meant getting some fucking sleep. So, even though he understood it was probably nothing, he still slipped out of the bedroom and began heading towards the stairs. There was a flashlight in the kitchen so he would make that his first stop. Didn’t exactly want to go stumbling through the house in the dark. 

When his foot hit the first stair, it quickly became very apparent that he hadn’t just woken up for no reason. A startled yelp rippled its way out of his lungs as a stupidly loud noise that kind of sounded like fabric ripping came from…somewhere. Stumbling backwards, a sickening jolt wracking his body when his back made contact with the cold wall, Keith stared down the stairs, straining to see in the darkness. Little bit of an obvious question but what in the holy fuck was that? A question he didn’t have a fucking answer to, obviously! Struggling to control the pace of his breathing, Keith hesitantly pushed himself off the wall, and crept forward, back towards the top of the stairs. If it had just been like a loud banging noise or like clattering, as though something had been knocked over, that would have been scary but at least explainable? 

There was shit outside and inside that could be knocked over or tossed about. What the fuck was in or outside this house that could produce such an immense tearing noise? That had literally sounded like the temple veil ripping! There were curtains in the house but all of them were thin, flimsy – none of them had the heft to create that kind of volume. Giving his head a hard shake, Keith made himself slowly descend the stairs. Wasn’t going to get any answers just standing there. First, flashlight. He needed to find that goddamn flashlight so he could actually see. It was a little easier to make himself move with a clear destination, a decided purpose in mind. 

Unfortunately, that purpose went straight out the fucking window when he got to the bottom of the stairs and, in his still very much panicked state, turned the wrong way, putting himself at the start of the hallway that lead to the door that, supposedly, couldn’t open. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem. He’d just sigh in exasperation, brushed a hand through his hair and go the right way. Instead of doing that, he froze, his stomach dropping all the way down to his ankles, and his lungs deciding that they didn’t want to work properly for a bit. By that point, his eyes had adjusted enough to the dark that he could make out where he was going. There was also a good amount of moonlight filtering in from the inside. All combined, it allowed him to see that the end of the hallway, the door that no one could open, not even a bunch of burly men, was open. 

It was wide open. 

The door was pressed up against the adjacent wall, revealing…well, not much of anything. Beyond the opening in the wall, there was nothing but darkness. 

Keith’s feet started moving before his brain could fully register what he was doing. Flying into the kitchen, he yanked open all the drawers, fumbling around frantically inside them until he found the stupid flashlight. Clicking it on, his heart not even beating anymore, it was just a vibrating mass of muscle, he raced back to the hallway, pointing the trembling beam of light at the now open door. Still…nothing. It was like the light was hitting a wall of darkness, like there was just an inky mass pressing up against the doorframe, and that was what he was illuminating. Breath whistled in and out of his parted lips. With slow, jerky steps, he walked down the hallway, every nerve inside his body screaming at him to run, to get his car keys and get the hell out of dodge. 

Nothing…he couldn’t see anything. The light didn’t even seem to be going through the doorway. Stopping just a few steps from the door, Keith numbly reached out one shaking hand, expecting to find something smooth, physical, like a wall or something that the light was actually illuminating that was just creating the illusion of nothing at all being there but instead, the tips of his fingers found just what he was seeing: nothing. There was nothing beyond the doorframe. His arm slipped into the darkness but didn’t disappear. It was there, he could see his arm but nothing else. Nothing at all. Taking another jerky step forward, he reached in even further. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, there was nothing there! He was just reaching into nothingness! 

There was just a big empty space of darkness beyond the fucking door that the flashlight couldn’t even fucking illuminate! That’s not how light fucking worked! Unless there was something physically obstructing the light’s path, it should fucking make it visible! 

“What the fuck?” Keith whispered harshly, actually managing to scare himself a little bit with his own voice. Wrenching his arm back, he stumbled away, frantically waving the flashlight around as if he moved the light fast enough, something might happen. When that, predictably, came up with zilch results, Keith came to a resounding decision. 

Out. He was out. He was nopeing the hell out of there. The door somehow opening by itself was freaky enough but this? This complete defiance of the rules of reality? Nope. N-o-p-e, having his own house was not fucking worth it. He was gone. Find somewhere to park his car till morning then call Madeline to let her know thanks, but not fucking interested. Backing up the hallway, not daring to turn his back on the door, Keith only made it a couple of steps before the whole thing took a nose dive into the ‘even worse’ category. From that intense, reality altering darkness came a sound. It was soft at first, barely even audible, just a whisper across his eardrums that he was quick to dismiss. 

Then it came again, louder this time. And again, and again, growing louder and louder until Keith could discern what he was hearing: movement. 

Something was in the darkness. 

And it was moving towards him.


	2. Light Doesn't Work Like That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is so short OTL

He could feel his heart beating. It slammed so hard against the confines of his ribs that kind of felt like it was purposefully trying to eject itself so it could run while Keith continued to stand there like a dumbass. Breathing shallowly, cold sweat popping up on his forehead, his legs violently quivering as though they’d been transformed into wet noodles that were currently struggling to hold up his weight and might collapse at any moment, the logical part of Keith’s mind was a siren screaming shrilly inside his head, shrieking at him to move, to run, to close the door, to do anything but the fear…the fear was much bigger. It was a monster looming over him, its fingers wrapped around his cold, trembling body. He couldn’t budge an inch. All he could do was watch mutely as the sounds got closer and closer. 

Rustling, like cloth being dragged across the floor. Heavy, muffled footsteps that made the floorboards shake. And worse of all, just really the putrid cherry on top of this shit pudding, breathing. Whatever it was in that darkness…he could hear it breathing. Long, slow, steady breaths, slipping out of that inky blackness and slamming like a sharp slap against his eardrums. Breathing…whatever was in that fucking darkness was breathing. That little fact managed to terrify him more than anything else. Yet, he still couldn’t fucking move. He might as well just be a painting, a still life, that was how fucking frozen he was. 

Then, all the noises stopped. There was a moment of silence so loud that it made his ears ring. For that one blissful second, he thought it was over, that whatever hell demon was making those sickening sounds had vanished. A stupid hope, a childish thought. His luck was never that good. Once something went bad, it didn’t stop until it was fully rotted. 

There came one more loud rustle and something stepped out of the darkness. All the breath whooshed out of Keith’s lungs in one, rushed breath. His heart skidded to a stop inside his chest. His stomach didn’t just drop to his knees, it went through the fucking floor. Every inch of his skin went numb, cold. Violently shaking, he slowly craned his head back to look up at the…monster standing in front of him. Big…very big, but the beam of the flashlight was more than enough to make him see more than he ever could have wanted to. Massive in size, stooped over in a slumped position, at first glance, he thought he was looking at some kind of…dog demon. There was a large snout poking out from underneath a long mop of hair, and further up were…not the sharp, pointed ears he’d been expecting but floppy ones. But, glancing down revealed a somewhat human…ish body. There was a chest…and a stomach, both covered in sparse to think clumps of fur. Its legs were weirdly bent inwards and ended in what were definitely paws. Muscular arms hung awkwardly in front of it. Clawed hands braced against the smooth floor. 

Light reflected off a pair of eyes hiding underneath the mop of hair. Those eyes were looking directly at him. 

At that point, shock had set fully in. He wasn’t even really sure how he felt at that moment. There was a fucking monster standing right in front of him, staring directly at him. Sure, he probably should feel afraid but considering his mind was currently using every ounce of thought processing power to try to explain why the fuck there was a seven foot dog monster in the fucking house, so that little emotion and practically everything else got shoved to the wayside while he just stared dumbly back at the thing. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like it was actively trying to threaten him. It was just kind of…squatting there, staring at him…somehow, and the thought was probably total bullshit, he got the feeling that it was just as startled by him as he was by it. 

There he stood, him and the monster, stock still, in complete silence – a pin could’ve been dropped in another country halfway around the globe and it would have sounded like an explosion – for what felt like an eternity before the beast took an excruciatingly slow, cautious step forward. Followed by another, then another, each one telegraphed, precise and careful. When it walked, it dropped down to all floors, its large body moving gracefully despite the strange angles and weird proportions. Sharp nails clicked against the hardwood, echoing through the stillness. Keith watched, dumbstruck, mute, his brain acting like a scratched CD that was skipping, playing the same bit over and over again. Just ‘what? What? What? What? What?’ on repeat inside his mind. 

Somehow, though, there was still no fear. Where that particular beast had gone, he had no idea because this definitely seemed like the kind of situation where he should be shitting himself out of terror but there was none. Not that he was exactly calm or anything like that. He just wasn’t…scared, which was, somehow, even more baffling than the monster steadily moving closer to him. 

It came to a stop about an arm’s length away from him. Close enough that if it were to reach out, it could easily tear his head off with one of those clawed hands. Now that it was much closer, he could see a large scar running across the monster’s snout, and that the long hair covering a considerable amount of its face was a stark, bone white. The moment his eyes rested on the beast’s scar, a sharp pain radiated out from the center of his forehead, piercing through his brain with a ferociousness that made his eyes water. Gasping sharply, he pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. In front of him, the monster pulled in a deep, shuddering breath, its entire body shaking. Stooping down, lowering its large, shaggy head so that the black nose was just inches from his face, the monster stared at him with focused, intelligent eyes. 

Then, its jowls opened and from somewhere deep in that broad chest came a low strained, grating rumble, “Keith…”

Pain exploded in the center of his head, radiating out in sickening, agonizing waves that were so strong he was brought to his knees. Grief…immeasurable, immense, suffocating sadness grabbed him a stranglehold, wringing the breath out of him, driving him even further down as he sobbed violently. Tears flooded his vision, streaming in torrents down his burning cheeks. Gagging, dragging in rasped gasps of air through the barrage of hysterical sobs, he saw through the blur of tears the beast begin to back up. Raising his head with significant difficultly, the full weight of the distressed, despairing face hovering over his was enough to make him collapse heavily back down onto the floor, his chest thudding against the hard wood. There was no strength left him in. Everything was being sapped away by the pain, the grief. 

“I’m sorry.” He heard the beast rasp from somewhere above him, its voice cracking, dripping with sadness, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Forgive me, Keith. I’m sorry.” 

Groaning loudly, desperately fighting against the pain, Keith tried to say something, tried to call the monster back but no words would come out. Nothing could get past the massive lump in his throat. Backing up even further, the monster whispered, “I’m sorry!’ once more in a terrible, broken voice that made Keith want to howl in agony then turned and bolted, back into the darkness, disappearing quickly as though the void had just swallowed it up. The door swung in, slamming shut with a loud thud that made Keith’s ears ring. There was a single moment of stillness, Keith stared at the door with wide, horrified eyes, his chest hitching with sobs then he was moving, hurling himself up off the floor, racing down the hallway to slam against the door with enough force to drive the air straight out of his lungs. 

“NO!” He screamed, the sound coming out as an inhuman screech. Grabbing the doorknob, he tugged as hard as he could, snot and tears and saliva mixing into a disgusting goo across the bottom of his face. When the door, predictably, didn’t bunch, he started to beat his fists against it. 

“SHIRO!” The name came ripping out of him, tearing his throat to shreds as though it was covered in barb wire, “SHIRO! PLEASE! COME BACK! COME BACK! SHIRO!” 

Silence. Only silence. Rearing back one arm, he brought his fist sailing down onto the door, hardly even noticing the skin stretched across his knuckles bursting open, blood splattering across the wood. He hit the door again and again and again, smashing his fists against it in one last ditch effort to break straight through the impenetrable mass, unable to feel the pain, uncaring of the damage he was doing to himself. All that mattered was Shiro! He had to get to him! He had to tell him that it wasn’t his fault! Shiro needed him! He needed him! He had to-! He needed to-! Keith gave the door one last punch, grimacing at the shock of pain that rushed up his arm, then collapsed in a heap onto the floor, sobbing bitterly. Blood was oozing out of his destroyed knuckles. Both his hands were wailing in pain but he could hardly feel it. 

“Shiro!” He gasped, pressing his shoulder against the door, “Please! Shiro!” 

Again, there came only silence. Curling up into a ball, placing one bloodied palm onto the door, Keith cried until exhaustion finally won out, leaving him slumped against the wall, drifting slowly off into a restless sleep.


	3. Leap of Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya   
> happy new years   
> have a two chap update <3

The cashier looked like she wanted to ask but, at the same time, didn’t want to get involved. Couldn’t really blame her. If he was in her position, checking out some spaced out dude with bloody dishrags wrapped around his hands, who was buying stuff that was obviously to actually fix up said hands, he wouldn’t want anything to do with him either. Hell, right then, he didn’t really want anything to do with himself. He kind of wished he could just float away from himself for a little while so that someone else could take over, allowing him to not exist for a little while, floating about in peaceful nonbeing. Since that wasn’t possible, he compromised by making no effort to get himself out of the heavy haze settled over his mind. 

Wasn’t worth being one hundred percent present – not when the moment he allowed himself to gain back just a little bit of conscious, his brain immediately began to fire off questions. Questions he didn’t have the energy to think about, let alone answer. Problem was, when those questions weren’t answered, it wasn’t like they just went away, sulking back to the inner recesses of his mind, where they’d pout until given the chance to pop up again. Instead, they bounced around his skull, gaining speed and traction with every impact until they were whizzing about, creating a cacophonous racket that really didn’t fucking help his already excruciating headache. So, to save his sanity, he let himself be a little bit of a zombie. 

It took the cashier telling him the final price of all his items three times, each time increasing in volume and urgency, before he realized he needed to pay. Fumbling, unable to use all of his fingers on both hands, he eventually had to give the envelope full of money over to the poor cashier, who was either making no attempt or was unable to hide just how much she didn’t want to be handling his money, so that they could, finally, finish the transaction, allowing both of them to get on with their lives. 

“Do you need some help with your bags, sir?” She asked softly, handing him back the envelope, her gaze darting down to the poorly bandaged hand as he reached up to take it from her. The instant the envelope was removed from her grip, she ripped her hand away, already sneaking it over to the massive bottle of hand sanitizer that sat next to the register. 

“No.” He said, his voice a raspy croak. The first time he spoken aloud since yesterday. It hurt like a motherfucker. Just one word, and he was ready to never speak again. Seemed as though his hands wasn’t the only thing he had fucked up. His throat felt raw, ripped to shreds. Tilting his head back, he considered going to grab some soothing lozenges but decided against it. There was bound to be something back at the house that would help. He didn’t want to prolong his time at the store any longer, or go through the checking out process again. Swallowing hard, grimacing at the way the linings in his throat clicked together, he whispered in an attempt to save his vocal chords, “Thank you.” 

Grabbing the only bag with his left hand, which was in considerably better condition than his right, Keith started the short trek back to his car. Best thing about living in what was essentially a village? It was stupidly easy to get a parking space close to the front. Though, then again, it was…well, he didn’t actually know what time it was since there weren’t any clocks around, and his phone was back at the house, still charging on the bedside table but it was early. Probably around 5:30ish in the morning so maybe it was less that it was easy and more that most people were asleep right now. 

He would like to be asleep right now. In fact, more than anything else, he wanted to go back to the house, crawl underneath the heavy covers, curl into a ball and sleep for five years. That, unfortunately, was an option that was currently not on the table. Stepping out into the frigid, biting cold, accompanied with a completely unnecessary wind that made it feel even fucking colder, Keith bowed his head against it, scrunching himself down into his thin hoodie. Yeah, would really love to be all wrapped up in some nice, toasty blankets right now. Comforting himself with the thought that soon, soon that dream would be his, Keith quickly got over to his car. 

Getting in proved easier than expected. All he had to do was set the bag down, get the door open with the four operational fingers on his left hand and success. Dropping down heavily into the driver’s seat, he retrieved his bag, slammed the door closed, again with his left hand, then slumped back, allowing his eyes to flutter closed. Everything hurt. He’d never been hit by a bus before but if he had, he imagined it must feel a little something like this. There wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t aching in some way, shape or form. On top of that, he was violently nauseous, exhausted to the point that he was a little scared to drive, and just…miserable. He was absolutely miserable but it wasn’t a misery born out of the terrible condition he had found himself in upon waking up that morning, slumped over on the floor, blood congealing over his busted knuckles, though he couldn’t imagine that it was helping much. 

No…he was miserable because…because of Shiro. A sharp twang of pain radiated out from somewhere deep inside his head, causing him to flinch and groan. Already, okay, he got the point, not thinking about that right now. It could come later. Right now, he needed to focus on getting back to the house so he could fix up his hands then sleep. 

Another best thing about living in essentially a village? No one being out on the roads. Again, still only 5:30ish in the morning possibly but back in the big city, the streets wouldn’t have been anywhere close to this abandoned. The trip back home was a slow, cautious one that was, thankfully, not regularly interrupted by blaring honks and middle fingers being thrown. If he hadn’t been in a considerable amount of pain, it might’ve been a peaceful, enjoyable drive. Not wanting to take any chances, Keith drove 20 under, putting him at a constant 25 mph. Took a considerably long time to get back to the house – probably around 15 minutes more than what he assumed to be normal but he got home with both himself and his car in one piece. 

He purposefully kept his gaze away from the door when he got inside, despite immediately being slammed with an intense urge to look, to reaffirm what he had seen earlier. Resisting, he quickly darted into the kitchen, dumping all of his supplies out onto the table. Plopping down into a nearby chair, Keith overlooked what he bought then leaned forward until his forehead was resting on top of the table. It was pretty obvious that he should go see an actual doctor. He couldn’t move the ring and pinky finger on his right hand, and the pointer on his left. Both his hands were swollen, bruised and badly battered. However, a doctor was out of the question. Even with the money that his supposed “grandfather” had left for him, there was no way he’d be able to afford it. All he could do was patch himself up best he could and hope that he hadn’t irreversibly fucked up his hands. 

Sighing, Keith slowly sat back, staring at his supplies – a roll of bandages, a package of thick wooden dowels, and a large bottle of generic pain killers. Later on, once more stores had opened up, he might go looking for some plaster to try to create a makeshift cast. Truth be told, he had no idea what he was doing. He had handled injuries before but none as severe as this. He didn’t even really know where to begin. Standing up, figuring that he could probably look up some kind of tutorial on how to do…the whole make his own cast thing, Keith made to go upstairs before stopping, turning on his heel and, with a little bit of difficultly, got the bottle of painkillers open. Swallowing three dry, he grimaced, gagged, coughed and got himself a cup of water. As he was chugging down the gloriously cool liquid, the burn in his throat momentarily soothed, he could feel a little bit of the haze hanging over his mind lifting. 

While he didn’t really want to go back to the whole ‘thoughts spinning around so viciously that he was surprised they didn’t just shot like bullets out of his ears’, it was probably best that he was, at least, somewhat clearheaded when he got on with doing whatever it is he needed to do with his hands. Gasping loudly, his belly protesting quite a bit at the sudden influx of water, Keith ignored it, got himself another glass, chugged that one down – not as quickly that time around – then turned, considered eating something small just to get something into his stomach and quickly rejected the thought. If he wound up getting sick during the whole thing, he’d rather just barf up water. 

All that decided, Keith started once again towards the stairs, only to come to a dead stop at the very first one. His breath froze in his throat. Every muscle in his body tensed up. His heart dropped down into his stomach before hurtling itself back up to start beating wildly inside his chest. Slowly, jerkily leaning over, Keith looked down at the hallway. 

Open. 

It was open. 

The door…was open. 

He hadn’t been allowing himself to think about it. The moment he woke up on the floor, the name of the beast that had appeared before him last night still on the tip of his tongue, he had been trying so hard to convince himself that it had all been a dream. He was exhausted after the sudden move, he was in an unfamiliar place, the door had freaked him out – all those things combined had created the perfect storm for a truly out of this world nightmare. That was it, that was all it was, nothing else, it couldn’t possibly be real but problem was, the more he tried to convince himself, the more he desperately told himself, over and over again until the voice of reason was screeching at the top of its nonexistent lungs, the less he believed it. 

Until…he didn’t believe it at all. 

Not just because it had seemed so real. Not just because he woke up on the floor with broken hands and a broken heart. Not just because when he checked the once immovable door that had seemed to be nothing more than a fixture, a decoration before, it had creaked and budged when he gave the doorknob a weak tug. While all of those things did come together to create a pretty powerful argument that what he had experienced last night had actually happened, none of them were the final nail in the coffin. 

Shiro was. The monster that had slowly crept towards him, groaning his name as he slowly lifted one hand towards him, not with the intent to hurt him but…something else, something that Keith couldn’t fathom but caused a tiny tickle at the back of his mind, something so nearly insignificant that he couldn’t grasp hold of it, infuriating him, making him want to shove his own fingers into his brain, right through the grey matter, so he could pluck it out and shake it until it told him what he wanted to know. It was just a trace, a whisper, a hint that there was something else there, lurking underneath the thick layer of murk that covered his unconsciousness but it was there, and it was making itself known. 

He couldn’t explain it but…out of everything that had happened last night, Shiro stood out so vividly that Keith couldn’t stand the thought of discarding him as being a figment of his imagination. Even though thinking about him brought back that intense sharp pain piercing through his mind, along with a suffocating grief that made him want to howl till his throat bled, he couldn’t…he couldn’t bring himself to discard that one little memory about him by convincing himself that he wasn’t real, that everything that happened had just been a dream. Shiro…he was real. He had been standing right in front of him. The whole thing…it was real…

Course, realizing that brought an issue. A very big issue. A monumental issue, even. One that couldn’t really be ignored. 

If that was all real, then what the fuck was all that? How did he explain it within the realms of reality? How do you take the rules of what happen in the real world, not some fiction and apply them to everything that had happened last night? Couldn’t! Couldn’t do it! This…event didn’t fit within reality. A monster appeared in the house he had inherited from his supposed “grandfather” after coming through a door that doesn’t open and when it did, it opened into an empty, black nothingness. How would anyone explain that?! Oh wait, he knew how. Uh, fucking insane. Batty. Bonkers. He had fucking lost his goddamn marbles! That was how people would explain it. Hell, he was halfway tempted to use that justification himself but again, similar to whole dream explanation, there was something about it that just didn’t fly. 

It hadn’t been a dream, and he wasn’t suffering from a sudden onset of mental illness. Maybe he was delusional but…no, there was no ‘maybe’, there was no ‘but’. If he tried to explain it to someone, he wouldn’t be able to. It wasn’t a dream, and it wasn’t a hallucination or a delusion. How’d he know? Fuck you, that’s how he knew. 

Taking his foot off the first step, Keith began to slowly walk down the hallway. Just like last night – beyond the door frame seemed to just be a great big nothingness. Just a blank, black face as though someone had painted the space behind the door a solid color to create an illusion that there was something beyond the frame. He knew better, though. He’d watched Shiro walk out from that space. Question is, was it only one way? If not, then…where did it lead? What was on the other side? Was there even another side? If there was…was Shiro there? Was he waiting for him? Was he worried about him? Keith’s chest tightened, the sharp pain making itself known once again as he remembered the look of anguish on Shiro’s face. Why? Why had he made such a face? Why had it hurt so much when Shiro said his name? How did he even know his name? 

Why…why did he feel like…no…why did he know him? There was no feel like. There was no sensing it. He knew. Somehow, even though it was crazy, it was inconceivable, he knew. He fucking knew. He knew Shiro. He knew…but he didn’t know how he knew. There were no memories anywhere inside the vast storage of his mind that contained even a trace of anyone, anything that could come even close to resembling him. He was pretty damn sure that if he had seen him somewhere before (not that he knew where he might’ve seen an actual, legitimate monster) so how? How did he know him? 

“It doesn’t matter.” Keith mumbled to himself, stopping directly in front of the massive gap in space before him. Well, it did but right now, it didn’t. That…that was a question he might be able to answer later. For now, all the mattered to him was that Shiro…he needed him. And he……he wanted to see him. He wanted to see him again. He wanted to apologize, to tell him that he didn’t need to apologize, to squeeze him close and tell him that everything was going to be okay. He wanted to see him, he wanted to see him so badly that it was suffocating. Wasn’t…wasn’t that the real reason he hadn’t been letting himself think about it? He wanted to see him, but how would that have even been possible? It wasn’t, there’d been a massive roadblock in the way. 

But now…that roadblock was gone. He was staring straight at what was possibly a path directly to Shiro, just waiting for him to take it. 

Reaching out with one swollen, shaky hand, Keith hesitated for just a moment, asking himself if he was really going to do this. There was a whole spiel he could’ve gone through, complete with the clichés ‘he had no idea what he was getting himself into’ or ‘this was going down the rabbit hole, only Wonderland probably wasn’t waiting for him’ and general stuff like that. He didn’t get to that point. The moment the cautious thought crossed his mind, he answered with a resounding, determined ‘yes’. Shiro…he needed to find Shiro, he wanted to find Shiro. No matter what, that…that was his only priority. Stepping forward, pushing one hand into the darkness, unsurprisingly, there was nothing there. It was just like reaching into an empty space. Taking a deep breath, Keith took another step forward then stopped, turned and darted up the stairs. 

Picking up his backpack, ignoring the shriek of pain that radiated up his arm when he bumped his broken fingers, he grabbed his pocketknife and some clothes, stuffed them into the backpack before racing back downstairs. Into the kitchen he went. The supplies he’d just bought, a loaf of bread, some random stuff (a couple granola bars, a small baggie of trail mix, and a handful of gummy snacks), a large bottle of water and a flashlight, along with some batteries were tossed in alongside everything else. Keith paused for a moment, then grabbed the envelope full of money. Better safe than sorry. Hovering about for just a while longer to write a quick note to Madeline on the off chance that she stopped by, Keith swung his now full backpack over his shoulder and rushed back to the hallway, terrified that the door might’ve closed while he was busy getting everything together. 

To his relief, the door was still swung wide open. Taking a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever might happen after he actually did this, Keith didn’t give himself any time to think about it. Racing forward, he jumped through the doorway, straight into the inky darkness.


	4. Constellations

He was fully expecting to just plummet into the abyss, to fall for the remainder of his life until starvation or dehydration stole the last breath from his lungs. So, when his foot landed safely on something solid that didn’t immediately fold underneath his weight, he couldn’t help but to come to a stop, staring down at…well, nothing since even when he was beyond the doorframe, there was still just an inky nothingness spread out all around him. Staying still for a couple moments, he waited to see if the nightmare would come true – a downward fall into a hellish dimension or some kind of Stephen King bullshit. When nothing happened, and it was literally just him standing there, one foot in the weird nothing world beyond the door, the other oddly perched in the real world, ready to take off, only the balls of his foot pressed against the hardwood, did he finally put himself entirely into the nothing beyond the door. 

It was…not really anything special. It wasn’t any colder or any warmer. It didn’t smell any differently. There certainly wasn’t anything to see, though he wondered. Pulling the flashlight out of his backpack, he turned it on, only for nothing to happen. Confused, since he was pretty sure there was a fresh pair of batteries in there, he switched them out nonetheless, just in case they were duds or something then tried again. Still, nothing. Really confused at that point, Keith stared down in the flashlight in his hand for a moment then stuck his arm out, back into the real world. Lo and behold, suddenly, the flashlight worked. It was hard to see in the bright morning sunlight but the light was definitely shining. 

When Keith pulled his arm back into the nothing beyond the door, it went out. He tried it a couple times then came to the possible maybe conclusion that technology didn’t work in this…space, reality, whatever. Finding that a little alarming because that meant he’d be walking in darkness, Keith shut the flashlight off, shoved it back into his bag (just in case, never know) then with a deep breath, set off. His feet made no sound as he strolled along…whatever it was he was walking on. The only noise that he could hear was the sound of his own breathing, and the rustling of his clothes as he walked. Other than that, silence. 

Which meant that when the door slammed shut with a mighty bang behind him, Keith let out an embarrassingly high pitched scream. Stumbling backwards, nearly falling flat onto his butt, suddenly finding himself in pitch black darkness, unable to see a thing, Keith experienced a flash of screeching, horrendous panic. What was he doing?! What if he just walked himself straight into a dimension entirely occupied by monsters, who would rip him to shreds the moment they set eyes on him, if they even had eyes that is?! What if there was no way out of here, that Shiro was the only one who could traverse this space, meaning he was trapped?! What if he actually was nuts and this had been his acceptance of a delusion, meaning he was going to take a spiral straight down to rock bottom?! 

Purposefully banging his fingers against his leg, the sharp jab of pain wrenching him out of that dangerous line of thought, Keith pulled in a deep, steadying breath, held it for a few moments before letting it out slowly. Alright, he was not going to do that whole panicking thing. Until things actually looked like they were about to go south, he was going to tackle this in as calm and rational a manner as he could manage. Glancing around as though he could actually see something, Keith set off once again. It wasn’t going to be possible to walk a straight line but it didn’t seem as though he was walking a tight rope or anything. Whatever direction he went in, no matter how far he walked that way, there was always something solid underneath his feet. 

So, at least, it seemed he didn’t have to worry about tumbling into an abyss. 

He wasn’t how long he had been walking for before there was a twinkle of light above him. Coming to a stop, half convinced that he’d imagined it, Keith raised his head to find that he hadn’t. High above him, a little ways to his left, there was a pleasant twinkling hanging, suspended, in the inky darkness. Tilting his head, very much aware that whatever it was could be dangerous but willing to take a shot since it was something in a whole bunch of nothingness, Keith changed direction and began heading towards it. For a while, it didn’t seem like he was getting any closer. The star like shine stayed in the same spot but it was like he was walking on a treadmill. A little crestfallen, going back to his initial thought that it might be an illusion, Keith was about to launch into an internal discussion as to whether or not he should keep going towards it or head in a different direction when another sparkle joined the first. 

Then another, and another and another. As he continued to walk towards the star like shines, dozens, hundreds, thousands of them began to appear in the inky nothingness. It was like the first twinkle was a domino that had been waiting to be pushed over and someone had finally come along to give it a little nudge, causing a beautiful chain reaction that spread out across the entire space spread out before him. Keeping his head tilted back, mouth hanging open slightly, Keith watched in awe as not only did the sparkles multiple in number but the colors changed drastically as well. 

No longer was there just a simple pearly white shimmer. Now, there were massive, magnificent splashes of colors. Blue, red, purple, gold, orange, all kinds of different shades and hues piercing through the murkiness, creating a brilliant cacophony of color. Soon, there was no longer a world of nothingness. He was in a nebula. Striding underneath a sea of stars, watching them bloom as though some unearthly being had breathed new light into them, he forgot…everything. Why he was there, who he was, where he was going, suddenly nothing mattered but the beauty stretched out all around him. Coming to a stop, head craned back, staring upwards without a care in the world, he stayed there for what felt like a very long while, maybe a millennia, maybe no more than a few seconds. 

‘What are you doing?’ A voice whispered from somewhere inside his head, coming from what seemed like a very faraway place. 

He didn’t answer, agitated that he had been interrupted by some stranger’s voice. 

‘What are you doing?’ The stranger’s voice asked, much louder and more insistently this time. 

“Leave me alone.” He mumbled, startling himself at the sound of his own voice. It had an unpleasant effect, one where he was suddenly aware of that fact that he was in pain. Something…somewhere was hurting him. For a split second, he almost looked away, almost dropped his gaze down to see what it was but managed to catch himself just in time. He didn’t want to look away. He wanted to marvel at the masterpiece of beauty, he wanted to drink in every last inch, to study it until he had memorized every hue and knew them all by heart. Especially irritated now, he was determined to just ignore the voice if it spoke again. 

‘Really?’ The voice asked, sounding just as irritated as he felt, ‘You’re doing this? You’re actually doing this? Shiro needs you and you’re standing there like an idiot, staring up at some pretty colors. Get moving! Now!’

He blinked. Shiro…why…why did that name sound so familiar? Shifting his weight around nervously, uncomfortable by the sudden intense tightness in his chest, the urgency thrumming in the back of his mind, pushing back against the heavenly hold those colors had on him, he tried to shove the voice away, tried to make it all go away. He’d finally found an iota of peace! Why was some stupid voice trying to ruin it for him? 

‘Uh?’ The voice scoffed condescendingly, ‘Shiro, you know? Shiro, the man who you swore yourself to? The man who you made an oath to protect? The man who when you saw what that witch had done to him reduced you to a sobbing, hysterical mess? That Shiro? Your Shiro? Our Shiro! Wake the fuck up, you fucking piece of shit!’ 

Jolting violently, dragging in a gasping, grating breath, he stumbled backwards. His head pounded with excruciating pain. Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, grinding his teeth together, he went down onto his knees. A cold hand of grief wrapped around his heart, seizing so tightly that it felt like the organ might burst at any moment. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes. What…what was he doing? Shiro…Shiro…he…he needed him…he needed him! He was…his…his Shiro, his Shiro…he needed….he needed to! 

Keith sat back up with a hard, rattling cough. Panting hard, fat droplets of sweat popping up onto his forehead, he frantically looked around, convinced that he had just heard someone talking but there was no one. Just him in a kaleidoscope of color that made his stomach lurch threateningly. Giving his throbbing head a mighty shake, which he instantly regretted because that only made the pain even worse, he got himself to his feet. Suddenly, he found himself feeling very sick, very shaky and very out of sorts. Blinking blearily, Keith went to raise his head to look back up at the colors all around him, only for a wave of nausea to slam into him. Clamping one hand over his mouth, his knees going all watery, the reason behind the sudden pukeiness began obvious when his gaze was focused downwards. 

The moment he wasn’t looking at the wash of colors, he felt alright. Not like one hundred percent or really even close but still sort of, kind of alright. To test his theory, Keith glanced back up again, only for the same thing to happen. Yep, okay, definitely the colors. He was practically in one of those paintings that you look at for a really long time in an attempt to find a shape or something in a chaos of hues so it made sense that he’d get sick from the sensory overload. So…great, he went from a world of nothingness to a world that would make him puke if he looked in the wrong direction. 

Fantastic. 

Sighing heavily, Keith once again started walking. It wasn’t any easier now that the world around him was significantly lighter but least he could see now, which was a bonus…he guessed. He continued on for a long ways, the weariness and pukeiness fading as he walked. It was just as he was wishing that he’d thought to bring his phone so that he could listen to some music, and then the subsequent realization that if his flashlight didn’t work, then his phone might not either when he heard…something. Coming to a stop, Keith strained his ears, trying to figure out exactly what he was hearing. It was a constant sound, not blipping in and out but steadily there. He just couldn’t tell what it was. 

Frowning, he walked on. As he traveled onwards, he wasn’t sure in what direction, the sound became louder and louder until what he was hearing finally dawned on him: singing. He was hearing singing. Not just one voice but dozens, possibly even hundreds, all holding one note – an angelic, though vaguely creepy pitch that didn’t exactly sound human. There was a weird quality to it, something not exactly high nor low but in a frequency that his ears didn’t seem to be able to fully register. They could hear something. There was definitely singing but it was like there was a disconnect between his ears and his brain when it came to deciphering the noise itself. 

Shrugging one shoulder, figuring that there wasn’t really much of anything else, he kept going. The song kept getting louder and louder and louder until his ears rang. It got to the point that he couldn’t stand the volume anymore. Clapping his hands over his ears, he was startled to find that he could still hear the song clearly. It pierced through the barrier of flesh and bones, slamming into his eardrums with enough force that it hurt. Grimacing, he forced himself to keep going. Even if his ears started to bled, he’d see this through. He walked, his head screeching with pain, fully expecting to feel the warm dribble of blood sliding down his neck at any moment, then came to a stop with a sharp inhale. 

Before, his head had been bowed. The pain made it hard to keep his chin up so he walked like there was a powerful wind pushing him back. Something, he wasn’t too sure what, made him look up. There, right in front of him, was a mass that vaguely reminded him of those curtains that hung in front of a stage before the play. It was rippling, billowing, like water that had just been disturbed. There didn’t seem to be any color to it – it looked to be completely clear but he couldn’t tell what was on the other side. Something…bright, pearlescent, shimmering. It was like being underwater and seeing rays of light filtering in through the water’s surface. The song, that fucking deafening song, was coming from it. Whether the mass itself was creating the song or if it was coming from somewhere beyond it, he couldn’t tell. 

Keith stared at it for a moment, his head hurting to the point that he couldn’t really think straight and even if it didn’t hurt, that stupid fucking song was so insanely loud that he wouldn’t have been able to hear his own thoughts anyway then rolled his shoulders, set his expression in one of grim determination, and walked forward. To his surprise, the song lowered in volume as he got closer to the weird curtain thingy. By the time he was standing directly in front of it, he could barely even hear it. Distantly wondering if the song was an aide for those who wondered this world as a way to lead them to it and since he was there, ready to jump, it was no longer needed, Keith reached out with one swollen, throbbing hand. 

Without an ounce of hesitation, he pushed forward. The mass wasn’t solid. In fact, it didn’t seem to have any mass to it at all. There was something there but, keeping with the theme, it was like dipping his hand into water. Keith’s hand slipped past the rippling layer, a weird tingling sensation rushing over his skin, into what seemed to be nothingness. Pulling in a deep breath, Keith decided it was time to just go for it. Hurling himself forward, he pushed through the rippling layer, his feet momentarily leaving the ground. There was a split moment when he seemed to be hovering in nothingness, held up in the air by something then he was falling, plummeting downwards into a scalding blur of white. But before he had the chance to scream in alarm, everything went dark for a moment, almost as though someone had turned off the lights. 

Then, a flash of color. 

A loud whoosh of air slammed against his face. 

Smells – earth, grass, rain far in the distance, sweet, sour, pungent and powerful – flooded in all around him. 

Sounds – birds chirping, water running, wind whistling through what he assumed were branches, loud and welcome in the absence of that obnoxious singing – poured into his ears. 

He didn’t so much as land as just blink once, twice and suddenly, he found himself lying on the ground, staring up at a brilliant blue sky.


End file.
